just passing more tidbits along from the Willow Creek Arts Conference....
[from Brian McClaren's bio]
What is one thing you would say to artists and leaders who are just starting out in ministry?
Your idealism is a precious gift, but it can also become a kind of weapon turned either on yourself or others when you or they fall short of your high ideals. So keep your ideals high, but keep your sense of grace and compassion high too.
What is one thing you would say to artists and leaders who have been involved in ministry a long time?
The need to make a living can turn us into 'entertainers' instead of prophetic leaders. So be sure you're taking a risk and resisting the pressure of the religious subculture to provide it with more 'products and propaganda' masquerading as art.
[from Donald Miller's bio]
What is one thing you would say to artists and leaders who are just starting out?
I think artists and leaders both, who are working in evangelical culture, would do well to establish community outside of Christian community. This will round out their perspective so they have something to offer evangelical culture. This is not so difficult. A part-time job at a bookstore, starting a book club, cooking club or joining a neighborhood association are all ways to connect with people outside your church.
What is one thing you would say to artists and leaders who have been involved in ministry a long time?
I could only offer the same answer as the previous question, that is...to broaden our perspectives by broadening the kinds of stimulation we receive as artists.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
remembering a year ago...
I woke up this morning about 6:30. As I was pouring water into the coffee pot I caught myself listening outside the kitchen window for air boats. When I let the dog out to pee I caught myself peeking around the edge of the door to see if there was standing water in the road.
I'm happy to say that everything in Conklin is fine. The rain storm we got last night (which was quite an eerie feeling!) brought much needed liquid to the brown and sluggish river that runs through our town.
I was talking with a neighbor friend a couple of weeks ago. She and her husband had to wade out of their house a year ago this morning. Her husband then got into his kayak and rowed down theslightly-sloping hill toward the end of their street to wake up some friends who were completely unaware that they were getting trapped by muddy, churling floodwaters. Then she and her husband spent the next couple of months clearing out the soggy remains of their basement and reconstructing it. When we were talking she said, "I'll be glad when the anniversary is past. Something about the year being over with will be encouraging to us."
I remember feeling the same way after our house fire. We marked the one year anniversary of the fire -- which happened on a New Year's Eve -- with a huge celebration. We must have had more than 50 people (including at least 20 or 30 small children!) crammed into our house to celebrate.
So, Brian and I decided to have a backyard picnic for our neighbors. I borrowed one of the most poignant flood photos our friend Stephanie took. And I borrowed the theme from the Willow Arts conference I just attended to create a beautiful picnic invitation to hand out to the neighbors.
And, even though Brian and I have been accused by a couple of people at our church for not paying enough attention to their families during the flood, we still have zillions of amazing memories of working together with our church family to help our neighborhood families to muck out and get back into their homes. Those memories are extremely precious to Brian, me and our kids. God allowed us to love our neighbors while wearing ridiculous looking boots and sweaty blue T-shirts. So, if you happen to be near Conklin this Saturday at 4 and want to stop by our picnic, we'd love to have you join us in our dry and safe neighborhood!
Sunday, June 24, 2007
more on the Arts Conference
Check out this post from Nancy Beach. She is commenting here on what was, to me, the most powerful session of the Willow Creek Arts Conference.
After you read the post/comments, I'd love to know your thoughts...
ps. make sure you read the Rev! magazine article link, too!
After you read the post/comments, I'd love to know your thoughts...
ps. make sure you read the Rev! magazine article link, too!
Monday, June 18, 2007
Diary of a Woman in Need of a Road Trip!
8:55 Monday morning, 6/11/07:
I catch up on emails after a full weekend of Franklin Graham Festival activity. I see an email from Willow Creek stating that Sally Morganthalar will be a late-addition to one of the mainstage sessions of their annual Arts Conference. (Morganthalar is the author of Worship Evangelism, on Pastor John's recommended reading list) The conference begins in two days.
8:56: I have a fleeting thought that I would like to hop into the Blazer, crank up my iPod and drive to Chicago for the Arts Conference.
8:56:30: I realize this is one of the dumbest ideas I've ever had. I can barely stand the arts anyway and have been thinking about quitting this job I have at church because even though it's the best job I could hope for, I'm tired of all the work and conflict and discouragement anyway. Besides, if I worked retail at least i'd get a product discount!
8:56:39: I tell Brian my ridiculous idea. He does not think it is ridiculous. I begin to wonder if I should actually do it.
9am - 10am: I browse area hotels for a room. It begins to appear that there is no room in the inn, any inn, anywhere in all of Chicagoland. I remind myself the idea was ridiculous anyway. I remind myself that a mother of four with no money and no hotel room does not plan to go on a roadtrip by herself 13 hours away (if Cleveland and Chicago roads have any mercy at all). I email the owner of a Bed and Breakfast 11 miles away from Willow Creek.
10:30am: The owner calls me. She does have a room available. She graciously agrees to 'pencil me in'. I try to act like I am a sane woman and that the reason I am looking for a room at the last minute is that my important schedule just miraculously opened up and I am able to just flit out to Chicago on a whim. "I have a few other details to look into, but I will confirm the reservation with you by the end of the day" She does not need to know that the details include the fact that I have $0 in my wallet and 4 children who need care for the next 5 days and a husband to convince and a vehicle that is only questionably road worthy.
I go on with the rest of the day as if the idea were ridiculous and not worth thinking on any longer.
6:00pm: Brian and I attend two simultaneous softball games (it's tricky, let me tell you!) played by our 11-year-old and 9-year-old daughters. I had tucked the schedule of the Arts Conference into the paperback I'd brought along to read during the innings-that-never-end. I casually bring up the fact that isn't-it-funny-that-if-I-were-to-attend-the-conference-i'd-have-to-leave-in-about-12 hours! tee hee. Brian says, "Oh, the conference is this week??" And then, God forever bless this beautiful man, he begins making phone calls and working the numbers. I call my mom about money she's given me to pursue this passion. Previously, she'd let me know that she wanted to give me money for something like this, but just needed some advance notice. I ask her if 12 hours is enough notice??
8:30pm: I call the B&B owner and tell her that all the pressing details have been arranged (as if they included things like moving important meetings and arranging for a dog sitter) and that I'll take that room she has and will see her tomorrow night. She has to ask several times what flight I'll be arriving on before she realizes I'm actually going to drive. She asks me how I like my coffee.
more of my diary in next post...
I catch up on emails after a full weekend of Franklin Graham Festival activity. I see an email from Willow Creek stating that Sally Morganthalar will be a late-addition to one of the mainstage sessions of their annual Arts Conference. (Morganthalar is the author of Worship Evangelism, on Pastor John's recommended reading list) The conference begins in two days.
8:56: I have a fleeting thought that I would like to hop into the Blazer, crank up my iPod and drive to Chicago for the Arts Conference.
8:56:30: I realize this is one of the dumbest ideas I've ever had. I can barely stand the arts anyway and have been thinking about quitting this job I have at church because even though it's the best job I could hope for, I'm tired of all the work and conflict and discouragement anyway. Besides, if I worked retail at least i'd get a product discount!
8:56:39: I tell Brian my ridiculous idea. He does not think it is ridiculous. I begin to wonder if I should actually do it.
9am - 10am: I browse area hotels for a room. It begins to appear that there is no room in the inn, any inn, anywhere in all of Chicagoland. I remind myself the idea was ridiculous anyway. I remind myself that a mother of four with no money and no hotel room does not plan to go on a roadtrip by herself 13 hours away (if Cleveland and Chicago roads have any mercy at all). I email the owner of a Bed and Breakfast 11 miles away from Willow Creek.
10:30am: The owner calls me. She does have a room available. She graciously agrees to 'pencil me in'. I try to act like I am a sane woman and that the reason I am looking for a room at the last minute is that my important schedule just miraculously opened up and I am able to just flit out to Chicago on a whim. "I have a few other details to look into, but I will confirm the reservation with you by the end of the day" She does not need to know that the details include the fact that I have $0 in my wallet and 4 children who need care for the next 5 days and a husband to convince and a vehicle that is only questionably road worthy.
I go on with the rest of the day as if the idea were ridiculous and not worth thinking on any longer.
6:00pm: Brian and I attend two simultaneous softball games (it's tricky, let me tell you!) played by our 11-year-old and 9-year-old daughters. I had tucked the schedule of the Arts Conference into the paperback I'd brought along to read during the innings-that-never-end. I casually bring up the fact that isn't-it-funny-that-if-I-were-to-attend-the-conference-i'd-have-to-leave-in-about-12 hours! tee hee. Brian says, "Oh, the conference is this week??" And then, God forever bless this beautiful man, he begins making phone calls and working the numbers. I call my mom about money she's given me to pursue this passion. Previously, she'd let me know that she wanted to give me money for something like this, but just needed some advance notice. I ask her if 12 hours is enough notice??
8:30pm: I call the B&B owner and tell her that all the pressing details have been arranged (as if they included things like moving important meetings and arranging for a dog sitter) and that I'll take that room she has and will see her tomorrow night. She has to ask several times what flight I'll be arriving on before she realizes I'm actually going to drive. She asks me how I like my coffee.
more of my diary in next post...
Monday, June 11, 2007
To God Be the Glory
sing it with me now, friends!
To God be the glory, great things he hath done!
So loved he the world that he gave us his Son,
who yielded his life an atonement for sin,
and opened the lifegate that all may go in.
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, let the earth hear his voice!
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, let the people rejoice!
O come to the Father thru Jesus the Son,
and give him the glory, great things he hath done!
It is an amazing time to live in the Greater Binghamton area right now.
And, I believe, the best is yet to come.
I agree with Z's post -- it was so FUN to see and hear about all the exploits of my friends and family this week as they served our community. Way to Go!
To God be the glory, great things he hath done!
So loved he the world that he gave us his Son,
who yielded his life an atonement for sin,
and opened the lifegate that all may go in.
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, let the earth hear his voice!
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, let the people rejoice!
O come to the Father thru Jesus the Son,
and give him the glory, great things he hath done!
It is an amazing time to live in the Greater Binghamton area right now.
And, I believe, the best is yet to come.
I agree with Z's post -- it was so FUN to see and hear about all the exploits of my friends and family this week as they served our community. Way to Go!
Friday, June 01, 2007
great story!
Check this story out!
Look here also.
And, don't miss the story of the boulder and the fire.
And what Spielberg had to say.
Look here also.
And, don't miss the story of the boulder and the fire.
And what Spielberg had to say.
Monday, May 28, 2007
my new favorite band
OK, I'm shamelessly bragging -- so sue me! Dot Rama is my new favorite band (I happen to have given birth to two of the members so, yes, I am biased)
Check out their newly recorded music
Check out their newly recorded music
Saturday, May 19, 2007
grief
Death is a violent visitor.
We've seen its aggressive behavior in the movies and far-away, foreign places like Virginia Tech.
Yesterday I saw death in a passive-aggressive disguise. I'm wondering which is the more evil.
All day I sat on the sidelines of this contest between breathing and not breathing, pain and medicated calm, consciousness and incohorence. The dying man was not the only player in this match. The family, too, veered between tears and laughter, polite conversation and grieving embrace, anger and love. And what I saw left no doubt that death is an evil visitor in any state.
"This is not how its supposed to be!"
I wanted to shout that into the hospital hallway and into the face of the tottering, placating priest.
People aren't supposed to die in this indignity of scrambled speech and ugly gowns that don't cover the bruised flesh.
Hospitals are abusive to my senses anyway. There is not one single beautiful thing to look at when you are trying not to notice the scars and nakedness of the sick and dying. There is not one lovely aroma to cover the furious battle between industrial disinfectant and the atrophy of bodily function. The only sounds that attempt to mask the groaning and babbling of illness and death come out as perfunctory -- anochronistic attempts at masking the fact that suffering exists and is waiting for each one of us.
"This is not how it's supposed to be!"
I wanted to whisper into the ears of each of the grown-up children who stood by the bedside of a man whom their intellect instructed them to love and their experience scoffed that was a fool's errand.
When a son holds his dying father's hand he is supposed to be washed in memories of playing catch and throwing out fishing line and getting homework signed. He is supposed to be able to remember the firm grip of those hands telling the boy he is a man at important events like graduation and marriage and the birth of his own children.
When a son holds down the flailing, bruised arm of his dying father he is supposed to be able to remember times those arms were muscled and warm in late-night lifts into bed and early Saturday -morning pancake flipping. He is supposed to be able to remember those arms bulging under the weight of vacation-packed-suitcases and wood for the backyard bonfire. He is supposed to recall a crushing embrace after injury or discipline.
When a daughter lifts the head of her dying father and arranges his pillow and smooths the blankets that he has kicked off in a fit of painful agitation, she is supposed to recall the times that he did the same for her when she was 5 and he was singing her to sleep and when she was 10 and had a nightmare and when she was 15 and was sleepless in hormonal angst.
When children of a dying man gather around his bed to comfort him and say good-bye they are supposed to be able to remember all of the similar words of comfort and care and guidance and blessing and love that he had spoken to them hundreds of times. They are supposed to be able to reflect his life back to him. To return to him what he has invested in the sweat and blood and prayer and love for them and their mother over a lifetime. Thy are not supposed to have to look at each other and wonder if it is OK to cry...wonder if they are doing this -- this being sons and daughter to a dying man -- right.
"This is not how it's supposed to be."
I did not have the privilege to speak it yesterday as I watched death steal life-giving oxygen from a man. I say it to my husband's true Father now.
"Thank you for being a father to the fatherless. Thank you for sparing the sins of the father on his children and his children's children. Thank you for giving him a taste of how it is supposed to be. Please show him how to grieve now."
We've seen its aggressive behavior in the movies and far-away, foreign places like Virginia Tech.
Yesterday I saw death in a passive-aggressive disguise. I'm wondering which is the more evil.
All day I sat on the sidelines of this contest between breathing and not breathing, pain and medicated calm, consciousness and incohorence. The dying man was not the only player in this match. The family, too, veered between tears and laughter, polite conversation and grieving embrace, anger and love. And what I saw left no doubt that death is an evil visitor in any state.
"This is not how its supposed to be!"
I wanted to shout that into the hospital hallway and into the face of the tottering, placating priest.
People aren't supposed to die in this indignity of scrambled speech and ugly gowns that don't cover the bruised flesh.
Hospitals are abusive to my senses anyway. There is not one single beautiful thing to look at when you are trying not to notice the scars and nakedness of the sick and dying. There is not one lovely aroma to cover the furious battle between industrial disinfectant and the atrophy of bodily function. The only sounds that attempt to mask the groaning and babbling of illness and death come out as perfunctory -- anochronistic attempts at masking the fact that suffering exists and is waiting for each one of us.
"This is not how it's supposed to be!"
I wanted to whisper into the ears of each of the grown-up children who stood by the bedside of a man whom their intellect instructed them to love and their experience scoffed that was a fool's errand.
When a son holds his dying father's hand he is supposed to be washed in memories of playing catch and throwing out fishing line and getting homework signed. He is supposed to be able to remember the firm grip of those hands telling the boy he is a man at important events like graduation and marriage and the birth of his own children.
When a son holds down the flailing, bruised arm of his dying father he is supposed to be able to remember times those arms were muscled and warm in late-night lifts into bed and early Saturday -morning pancake flipping. He is supposed to be able to remember those arms bulging under the weight of vacation-packed-suitcases and wood for the backyard bonfire. He is supposed to recall a crushing embrace after injury or discipline.
When a daughter lifts the head of her dying father and arranges his pillow and smooths the blankets that he has kicked off in a fit of painful agitation, she is supposed to recall the times that he did the same for her when she was 5 and he was singing her to sleep and when she was 10 and had a nightmare and when she was 15 and was sleepless in hormonal angst.
When children of a dying man gather around his bed to comfort him and say good-bye they are supposed to be able to remember all of the similar words of comfort and care and guidance and blessing and love that he had spoken to them hundreds of times. They are supposed to be able to reflect his life back to him. To return to him what he has invested in the sweat and blood and prayer and love for them and their mother over a lifetime. Thy are not supposed to have to look at each other and wonder if it is OK to cry...wonder if they are doing this -- this being sons and daughter to a dying man -- right.
"This is not how it's supposed to be."
I did not have the privilege to speak it yesterday as I watched death steal life-giving oxygen from a man. I say it to my husband's true Father now.
"Thank you for being a father to the fatherless. Thank you for sparing the sins of the father on his children and his children's children. Thank you for giving him a taste of how it is supposed to be. Please show him how to grieve now."
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
having one of those days??
Every once in awhile I see a piece of art that I want to share with all of you!! I love the title, "Can I Get Some Help Here?" Hope you are having a much better day than this fellow!(click here to see more of this artist's work)
Monday, May 14, 2007
Friday, May 11, 2007
TGIF!
My dictionary.com word for the day happens to be one of my all-time favorite words ever...
denouement \day-noo-MAWN\, noun:
1. The final resolution of the main complication of a literary or dramatic work.
2. The outcome of a complex sequence of events
I am very thankful it is Friday. I am thankful the sun is shining. I am thankful for a crammed-full week of walking in community, working hard, learning lots, caring for family and growing up in Christ. Boy, am I pooped! The denouement for this complex sequence of events includes a good book, an ice-cold glass of water and the back deck.
denouement \day-noo-MAWN\, noun:
1. The final resolution of the main complication of a literary or dramatic work.
2. The outcome of a complex sequence of events
I am very thankful it is Friday. I am thankful the sun is shining. I am thankful for a crammed-full week of walking in community, working hard, learning lots, caring for family and growing up in Christ. Boy, am I pooped! The denouement for this complex sequence of events includes a good book, an ice-cold glass of water and the back deck.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
he had me at hello!
I'm a little speechless from my guest blogger (see previous post)! Maybe we should all take a few days to read and re-read that post -- and to meditate deeply on its meaning....
Saturday, May 05, 2007
Livingpalm's Blog
I am lovingly, I'm sure, referred to in this blog as B -- LP's husband.
I have been very lax about keeping up with her blog even though she is the most important thing on earth to me. So, imagine my surprise when I looked it up tonight and found that her last post was about me and my speaking engagement at BU. (I join LP, by the way, THANK YOU for praying for me.)
I do not share the same passion for blogging as many of you do, but I do have a passion for Livingpalm and her life. Many of you have gotten to know her more personally through these postings, and I suspect you are beginning to realize, as I have always known, that LP is amazingly complex and wonderfully profound all at the same time. She is... well here is the reason that I do not blog on a regular basis... words fail me.
Let me explain. Yesterday I dropped her off at her hairdressers and then went on to run some errands. These errands were somewhat mindless, but I did have to mix in a couple of work- related stops as well. When I am alone in the car completing mundane tasks my mind often wanders to more stressful things -- finances, conflicts, and future plans.
When I returned to the hairdressers my wife looked more beautiful than when I dropped her off -- which I am sure is how it is supposed to work, but is hard for me to believe since she was unbelievably beautiful when I dropped her off. She turned in the chair to face me and she took my breath away. She was gorgeous!
And I said... "Do you think that you can keep your hair that way, Tam?"
Yeah, that was it... "Can you keep it that way?"
Therefore, I thought I would use one of the few times I have ever posted to a blog to go back in time and say exactly what I think of Livingpalm.
You are the most beautiful woman I know.
I know I am not the easiest guy to live with. Thank you for putting up with me. Because of you, I am where I am today.
I love your creativity, even though I do not always understand it.
I love the way you process things. You are far deeper in the way you approach life than I will ever be. It has made me a better man.
I appreciate your compassion for people.
I enjoy watching your mercy and personality demonstrated in our children. They are creative, real, and smart because of you. You are a great mom.
You are sexy.
You are confident.
You are a leader.
You are strong.
You are gentle.
You care deeply about your and my relationship with The Creator.
Here is what I learned yesterday. They say that life happens when you're making other plans. It's true, but I will be careful to acknowledge the wonderful things that God has placed in my life -- starting with my Livingpalm (and her blog).
B
I have been very lax about keeping up with her blog even though she is the most important thing on earth to me. So, imagine my surprise when I looked it up tonight and found that her last post was about me and my speaking engagement at BU. (I join LP, by the way, THANK YOU for praying for me.)
I do not share the same passion for blogging as many of you do, but I do have a passion for Livingpalm and her life. Many of you have gotten to know her more personally through these postings, and I suspect you are beginning to realize, as I have always known, that LP is amazingly complex and wonderfully profound all at the same time. She is... well here is the reason that I do not blog on a regular basis... words fail me.
Let me explain. Yesterday I dropped her off at her hairdressers and then went on to run some errands. These errands were somewhat mindless, but I did have to mix in a couple of work- related stops as well. When I am alone in the car completing mundane tasks my mind often wanders to more stressful things -- finances, conflicts, and future plans.
When I returned to the hairdressers my wife looked more beautiful than when I dropped her off -- which I am sure is how it is supposed to work, but is hard for me to believe since she was unbelievably beautiful when I dropped her off. She turned in the chair to face me and she took my breath away. She was gorgeous!
And I said... "Do you think that you can keep your hair that way, Tam?"
Yeah, that was it... "Can you keep it that way?"
Therefore, I thought I would use one of the few times I have ever posted to a blog to go back in time and say exactly what I think of Livingpalm.
You are the most beautiful woman I know.
I know I am not the easiest guy to live with. Thank you for putting up with me. Because of you, I am where I am today.
I love your creativity, even though I do not always understand it.
I love the way you process things. You are far deeper in the way you approach life than I will ever be. It has made me a better man.
I appreciate your compassion for people.
I enjoy watching your mercy and personality demonstrated in our children. They are creative, real, and smart because of you. You are a great mom.
You are sexy.
You are confident.
You are a leader.
You are strong.
You are gentle.
You care deeply about your and my relationship with The Creator.
Here is what I learned yesterday. They say that life happens when you're making other plans. It's true, but I will be careful to acknowledge the wonderful things that God has placed in my life -- starting with my Livingpalm (and her blog).
B
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
sovereign timing
Thanks to those of you who prayed for my husband last Friday night. Several months ago, the InterVarsity group at BU called the church to request a speaker for their gathering this past Friday. B was the only one available so he agreed to the event and to the topic they gave him at that time -- Where is God in the good things in life??
The timing of the event falling during the week of the VA Tech tragedy is just a 'God-thing' and was very stretching for B as the students changed the requested topic to "Where is God in tragedy?"
Here's a clip from Fox 40 News. The media focused on the concerns this student group has with a potential 'Asian backlash' from the shootings (the majority of this student fellowship are Asian Americans).
Again, thanks to all of you who were covering B in prayer last Friday.
The timing of the event falling during the week of the VA Tech tragedy is just a 'God-thing' and was very stretching for B as the students changed the requested topic to "Where is God in tragedy?"
Here's a clip from Fox 40 News. The media focused on the concerns this student group has with a potential 'Asian backlash' from the shootings (the majority of this student fellowship are Asian Americans).
Again, thanks to all of you who were covering B in prayer last Friday.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
lists
I realize I've been pretty verbose lately so today will be a short post. I just realized that I haven't told you about some pretty great stuff I've been watching, reading and listening to lately and thought I'd send along my recommendations for anyone interested....
Movie:
Blood Diamond -- some pretty tough storylines (especially the child soldiers), but a deeply inspiring father/son storyline and beautiful cinematography
TV Show:
Planet Earth - Discovery Channel (gotta see it in HD!); I am not normally a nature TV lover, but every time I watch this show I start crying because I am just speechless at the diversity and originality and joyfulness and sensuality of our Creator. The camera work that covers the broadest landscape to the tiniest microscopic detail is astonishing. If you don't get the Discovery Channel you should buy the DVD set.
Music:
Glory Revealed - I think I've said enough about that lately.
Book:
Eat This Book by Eugene Peterson - written by the man who brought us the Message paraphrase; about the supremacy of the Word; i'm only part way through, but I have been inspired to absorb the Word into every pore -- to breathe it in and breathe it ou in my everyday life.
Movie:
Blood Diamond -- some pretty tough storylines (especially the child soldiers), but a deeply inspiring father/son storyline and beautiful cinematography
TV Show:
Planet Earth - Discovery Channel (gotta see it in HD!); I am not normally a nature TV lover, but every time I watch this show I start crying because I am just speechless at the diversity and originality and joyfulness and sensuality of our Creator. The camera work that covers the broadest landscape to the tiniest microscopic detail is astonishing. If you don't get the Discovery Channel you should buy the DVD set.
Music:
Glory Revealed - I think I've said enough about that lately.
Book:
Eat This Book by Eugene Peterson - written by the man who brought us the Message paraphrase; about the supremacy of the Word; i'm only part way through, but I have been inspired to absorb the Word into every pore -- to breathe it in and breathe it ou in my everyday life.
Monday, April 16, 2007
on wrestling watermelons
The other day I left a comment on one of my blogging buddies sites.
His post reminded me about one of my very first posts on this blog regarding my view of God as a greased watermelon. (ironically, that post was written in response to another friend's post at the time!) Here is the major point of the post:
His post reminded me about one of my very first posts on this blog regarding my view of God as a greased watermelon. (ironically, that post was written in response to another friend's post at the time!) Here is the major point of the post:
It strikes me that God loves our pursuit of Him so much that He sometimes seems to playfully hide from us (picture peek-a-boo or hide 'n seek with your kids and all of the giggling that goes along with it and the joy of being found by them) in order to keep us moving forward and unable to make ourselves God because we figured him out (picture Eve wanting to eat the fruit in the garden so she could have the same knowledge as God)
It seems that God chooses to be more like a greased watermelon than a bird with clipped wings in a cage. Even those this often leaves me feeling frustrated, I wouldn't want to serve a God who could be caught-- by me or anyone else.This thought has been rolling around in my brain for several days. Then, this morning, I was reading in Psalm 46 and a sentence in the last verse caught my attention and seemed to jump right into the pond with that greased watermelon theory,
"Jacob-wrestling God fights for us"
...and the phrase just got stuck in my head.
NASB states it this way, "The God of Jacob is our stronghold."
When I read it this way, the phrase feels passive. There is God and there is Jacob. It appears as though Jacob possesses God and visa-versa. Jacob is very blessed that his God is willing -- and even intentional -- to be known in connection with Jacob's name (which has been synonomous with both good and not-so-good circumstances).
BUT, when I read the Message paraphrase, the statement appears in a totally new light. It appears as an active thing is going on here. Both parties - God and Jacob - possess each other through the action of WHAT....?!?
No, it's not a Hallmark kind of word, like:
"Jacob-loving God" or
"Jacob-hugging God" or
"Jacob-befriending God"
NOPE! It's "Jacob-wrestling God"!!
Wrestling.
Wrestling?
Think about it for a moment. (first, you gotta get the whole WWF thing out of your head...that's not really wrestling)
I think of two things:
1. wrestling-the-sport: guys dressed in funny leotards and padded helmets
and
2. wrestling-the-favorite-form-of-affection-for-Daddies: kids and their dad tussling and tickling and squealing (and Mom closing her eyes out of fear....someone is going to get hurt!)
Hmmm? I need more clarification on this whole wrestling thing. I go back to the beginning - the book of Genesis. I need to remind myself of the exact play-by-play of this historic GOD vs. JACOB smackdown. (no pay-per-view for this event, but what with the presences of Deity and body-deforming injuries HBO could have made a killing!)
Here's the text (and it is amazing):
Let's consider the opponents in this match:
there's God, otherwise known as Creator of the Universe, Lord Most High, Great King and the Mighty One
and there's Jacob, otherwise known as Heel, Deceiver, and Mama's Boy
Read for yourself chapters 26- 50 on the less-than-stellar details of this man's life:
rejected by his Father and coddled by his mother;
cheats his brother out of jealousy;
totally deceives his aged father;
gets what he dishes out when his own uncle plays a cruel trick on him and Jacob is heartbroken as he faces great disappointment in the love and marriage department;
is on his brother's list of 'most wanted dead' list;
following in his own parents' footsteps, he showed favoritism toward one of his sons, thus rejecting the others;
fathered children with tons of their own baggage (imagine their stories in a CrossCurrent small group!)victim of rape;
murderers and looters;
and, in a classic case of generations improving on the sins of their fathers, torturers and deceivers;
experienced grief, depression and starvation as famine kept him from being able to provide for his family;
in his own words at the end of his life, Jacob summed up his entire existence as a "short and hard life".
To be fair, Jacob showed some really great qualities during his lifetime also. I love the way he falls in love at first sight with Rachel and then demonstrates acts of machismo and chivalry to gain her hand in marriage. And, while some might call it sneaky, I admire his clever dealings in business and wisdom in conflict.
My favorite characteristic of this guy, though, is the way he is always building monuments to God. He seems able, more than the average guy, to recognize God's protection and blessing in His life. (check out Genesis 28: 10-18; 32:18-20; 35: 1-8; 35:13-15; 46) He continues to seek God and is, in return, blessed by God and even reconciled with his father and brother
and later in life, reunited with his beloved son, Joseph, whom he had given up for dead.
OK -- so that was a detour to dig into the life of the man. I think it's worth the trip because, after all, this is the only guy I've ever heard of who went head to head with the Holy of Holies in a wrestling match (it says, "the man realized he couldn't get the best of Jacob" and had to resort to injuring him to win the fight!) Until the day I die, I will live in astonishment of the way God interacts with and blesses and uses such ordinary -- and even wacky -- characters (couldn't you imagine Jacob and his brothers on the Jerry Springer show?!?). Having written that last sentence is a little bit frustating because it's been said before so many times, but it still manages to take my breath away and feels almost impossible to believe.
And, now, back to the watermelon thing. My theology has been all messed with. It was a huge stretch for me to believe that God allows himself to behave like a greased watermelon -- not willing to be 'caught' and tamed. But, this passage about Jacob and the wrestling match makes me believe that God allows us to behave (in His image after all) in the same way. In this story, Jacob caught God and "would not let Him go" until he received a blessing. Jacob, the man who had had to cheat and lie to manipulate blessing from all the previous leaders in his life -- was not outmatched in a wrestling match with his God. It's absolutely crazy, I tell you.
And, then, instead of God being ticked off, God is so impressed He gives him a blessing and a new name.
Laaaaddddiiiieeeessss and GENTLEMAN, introducing Jacob-the-God-Wrestler!
I'm gonna have to go and think about this some more. Farewell, to all my favorite, God-Wrestlers....
"Jacob-wrestling God fights for us."
NASB states it this way, "The God of Jacob is our stronghold."
When I read it this way, the phrase feels passive. There is God and there is Jacob. It appears as though Jacob possesses God and visa-versa. Jacob is very blessed that his God is willing -- and even intentional -- to be known in connection with Jacob's name (which has been synonomous with both good and not-so-good circumstances).
BUT, when I read the Message paraphrase, the statement appears in a totally new light. It appears as an active thing is going on here. Both parties - God and Jacob - possess each other through the action of WHAT....?!?
No, it's not a Hallmark kind of word, like:
"Jacob-loving God" or
"Jacob-hugging God" or
"Jacob-befriending God"
NOPE! It's "Jacob-wrestling God"!!
Wrestling.
Wrestling?
Think about it for a moment. (first, you gotta get the whole WWF thing out of your head...that's not really wrestling)
I think of two things:
1. wrestling-the-sport: guys dressed in funny leotards and padded helmets
and
2. wrestling-the-favorite-form-of-affection-for-Daddies: kids and their dad tussling and tickling and squealing (and Mom closing her eyes out of fear....someone is going to get hurt!)
Hmmm? I need more clarification on this whole wrestling thing. I go back to the beginning - the book of Genesis. I need to remind myself of the exact play-by-play of this historic GOD vs. JACOB smackdown. (no pay-per-view for this event, but what with the presences of Deity and body-deforming injuries HBO could have made a killing!)
Here's the text (and it is amazing):
But Jacob stayed behind by himself and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. When the man saw that he couldn't get the best of Jacob as they wrestled, he deliberately threw Jacob's hip out of joint.I'm almost speechless from this text. I will try to sum up my thoughts, though....to put into words my amazement at my God and His ways.
The man said, "Let me go; it's daybreak."
Jacob said, "I'm not letting you go 'til you bless me."
The man said, "What's your name?"
He answered, "Jacob."
The man said, "But no longer. Your name is no longer Jacob. From now on it's Israel (God-Wrestler); You've wrestled with God and you've come through."
Jacob asked, "And what's your name?"
The man said, "Why do you want to know my name?" And then, right then and there, he blessed him.
Jacob named the place Peniel (God's Face) because he said, "I saw God face-t0-face and lived to tell the story."
The sun came up as he left Peniel, limping because of his hip.
Let's consider the opponents in this match:
there's God, otherwise known as Creator of the Universe, Lord Most High, Great King and the Mighty One
and there's Jacob, otherwise known as Heel, Deceiver, and Mama's Boy
Read for yourself chapters 26- 50 on the less-than-stellar details of this man's life:
rejected by his Father and coddled by his mother;
cheats his brother out of jealousy;
totally deceives his aged father;
gets what he dishes out when his own uncle plays a cruel trick on him and Jacob is heartbroken as he faces great disappointment in the love and marriage department;
is on his brother's list of 'most wanted dead' list;
following in his own parents' footsteps, he showed favoritism toward one of his sons, thus rejecting the others;
fathered children with tons of their own baggage (imagine their stories in a CrossCurrent small group!)victim of rape;
murderers and looters;
and, in a classic case of generations improving on the sins of their fathers, torturers and deceivers;
experienced grief, depression and starvation as famine kept him from being able to provide for his family;
in his own words at the end of his life, Jacob summed up his entire existence as a "short and hard life".
To be fair, Jacob showed some really great qualities during his lifetime also. I love the way he falls in love at first sight with Rachel and then demonstrates acts of machismo and chivalry to gain her hand in marriage. And, while some might call it sneaky, I admire his clever dealings in business and wisdom in conflict.
My favorite characteristic of this guy, though, is the way he is always building monuments to God. He seems able, more than the average guy, to recognize God's protection and blessing in His life. (check out Genesis 28: 10-18; 32:18-20; 35: 1-8; 35:13-15; 46) He continues to seek God and is, in return, blessed by God and even reconciled with his father and brother
and later in life, reunited with his beloved son, Joseph, whom he had given up for dead.
OK -- so that was a detour to dig into the life of the man. I think it's worth the trip because, after all, this is the only guy I've ever heard of who went head to head with the Holy of Holies in a wrestling match (it says, "the man realized he couldn't get the best of Jacob" and had to resort to injuring him to win the fight!) Until the day I die, I will live in astonishment of the way God interacts with and blesses and uses such ordinary -- and even wacky -- characters (couldn't you imagine Jacob and his brothers on the Jerry Springer show?!?). Having written that last sentence is a little bit frustating because it's been said before so many times, but it still manages to take my breath away and feels almost impossible to believe.
And, now, back to the watermelon thing. My theology has been all messed with. It was a huge stretch for me to believe that God allows himself to behave like a greased watermelon -- not willing to be 'caught' and tamed. But, this passage about Jacob and the wrestling match makes me believe that God allows us to behave (in His image after all) in the same way. In this story, Jacob caught God and "would not let Him go" until he received a blessing. Jacob, the man who had had to cheat and lie to manipulate blessing from all the previous leaders in his life -- was not outmatched in a wrestling match with his God. It's absolutely crazy, I tell you.
And, then, instead of God being ticked off, God is so impressed He gives him a blessing and a new name.
Laaaaddddiiiieeeessss and GENTLEMAN, introducing Jacob-the-God-Wrestler!
I'm gonna have to go and think about this some more. Farewell, to all my favorite, God-Wrestlers....
Saturday, April 14, 2007
night with Glory Revealed tour
Can't wait another day to post about our night with Glory Revealed in Lancaster, Ohio. Since I traveled with B to Akron ... we tacked on another two-hours to the drive to see the tour near Columbus.
May I be honest?? This has been a really, really, (did I say really?) hard year as far as work and ministry goes. To be able to get out of town and attend an event that we were only responsible to show up for -- no work involved other than reading the map and finding a good parking spot. We were able to sit in the second row ... just feet away from the stage.
We were also surprised to discover that the evening was being recorded for a future CCN satellite-feed to churches across the country and a tour DVD. (It felt like our experience with David Letterman a couple of years ago).
All the logistical hoopla aside .... to be able to just allow the richness of the music and the warmth of the harmonies and the truth-speak of the Scripture encased in lyrics to wash over us was truly a cup of cold water for me. I felt like those close-up time lapsed video shots of a flower in bloom -- just opening up from exhaustion and discouragement. Resurrection comes to mind again.
I know I've said it before, but you gotta get this album! It's fresh and excellent and rich and full of truth.
As far as critique of the evening, B and I were both enthralled with Hyper Static Union's Shawn Lewis (who wrote a lot of the music on the project). If there is a way for a banjo to sound groovy, he's got it down. We also became huge fans of previously unknown to us Trevor Morgan. He sings on the track #1 of the album, Zephaniah 3:17 and played bass almost every song of the concert. (just for a visual aid -- he looks like the perfect combination of Tom Hanks and Scott Gravelding!)
We also can't believe we had never heard anything from Candi Pearson Shelton. The woman's got pipes! She added beautiful descant layers to many of the songs. She solos the title track, Glory Revealed. She also provided one of a couple of musical finales to the concert with Mighty to Save. (amazing song. shhhhh, don't let anyone know it's from Hillsong and we might be able to add it to our playlist at church)
As for a couple of thumbs downs, we gotta be honest, Brian Littrell drove us crazy. We may be biased 'cuz we never fell for the boyband stuff in the 90's and that's all we could think of when we watched him. He seems to have some kind of stage onset of A.D.D. and seemed to just pull random comments out of the air when he was supposed to be singing. His voice is OK and he adds a kind of unexpected surprise to this cast of characters, but mostly he just seems to fit the bill of 'one of these things is not like the other'. Having said that, though, I did enjoy the two songs he sang from his solo album, Welcome Home.
I also have to say that I am mega-impressed with the producer of this project, David Nasser. Appearantly, he is a good friend of Mac Powell's and is the originator of the concept for a 'bluegrass - ish' style. His main emphasis, however, is on the power of the Word and how dehydrated we are as Christians when it comes to the Living Water. I feel that he totally hits the bulls-eye with this project. HOWEVER, both B and I were turned off by his speaking approach during the intermission. Out of this amazing organic, musically elegant project his speaking style made me feel like I was back in highschool listening to a canned youth talk. His point was powerful and timely, but his methods felt contrived and demeaning. It was hard not to be part of the post-event evaluation team... I so much wanted to let him know how frustrated we were by his talk.
Oh, and one more thing -- two actually.
1. MAC
2. POWELL
I know I only see him in one light -- on stage, beneath the lights, backed by amazing musicians. But I walked away from this event feeling like we were buddies. Maybe it was the second row seat and the fact that I'm pretty sure he looked me straight in the eye a couple of times (i know, i know, i sound like a jr. high crazed fan...but hear me out) B and I were both impressed with the subtle, but very strong, leadership he demonstrated. Even though the event was supposed to feel organic and somewhat unrehearsed, it was very clear who the leader was on that stage. (it's a good thing, too, or i'm afraid it might have turned into the Brian Littrell variety hour) He's also just got a darn great voice.
alright, enough said already. even though i still didn't say how MUCH i love Shane & Shane. the guys just sing from their toes and exude joy all over the place. i also am pretty certain if it were zeph317 or burningalive writing this review of the evening they would have had much more to say about all the hardware on the stage...it's just out of my realm! i've pre-ordered the DVD so we'll have a premiere party when it comes out, ok?!?
i'll stop now, though. i can't wait for heaven. i know we're not supposed to think of it as an eternal hymn sing in the sky, but after a night like the one we spent with Glory Revealed a few millenia like that would be just fine with me!
May I be honest?? This has been a really, really, (did I say really?) hard year as far as work and ministry goes. To be able to get out of town and attend an event that we were only responsible to show up for -- no work involved other than reading the map and finding a good parking spot. We were able to sit in the second row ... just feet away from the stage.
We were also surprised to discover that the evening was being recorded for a future CCN satellite-feed to churches across the country and a tour DVD. (It felt like our experience with David Letterman a couple of years ago).
All the logistical hoopla aside .... to be able to just allow the richness of the music and the warmth of the harmonies and the truth-speak of the Scripture encased in lyrics to wash over us was truly a cup of cold water for me. I felt like those close-up time lapsed video shots of a flower in bloom -- just opening up from exhaustion and discouragement. Resurrection comes to mind again.
I know I've said it before, but you gotta get this album! It's fresh and excellent and rich and full of truth.
As far as critique of the evening, B and I were both enthralled with Hyper Static Union's Shawn Lewis (who wrote a lot of the music on the project). If there is a way for a banjo to sound groovy, he's got it down. We also became huge fans of previously unknown to us Trevor Morgan. He sings on the track #1 of the album, Zephaniah 3:17 and played bass almost every song of the concert. (just for a visual aid -- he looks like the perfect combination of Tom Hanks and Scott Gravelding!)
We also can't believe we had never heard anything from Candi Pearson Shelton. The woman's got pipes! She added beautiful descant layers to many of the songs. She solos the title track, Glory Revealed. She also provided one of a couple of musical finales to the concert with Mighty to Save. (amazing song. shhhhh, don't let anyone know it's from Hillsong and we might be able to add it to our playlist at church)
As for a couple of thumbs downs, we gotta be honest, Brian Littrell drove us crazy. We may be biased 'cuz we never fell for the boyband stuff in the 90's and that's all we could think of when we watched him. He seems to have some kind of stage onset of A.D.D. and seemed to just pull random comments out of the air when he was supposed to be singing. His voice is OK and he adds a kind of unexpected surprise to this cast of characters, but mostly he just seems to fit the bill of 'one of these things is not like the other'. Having said that, though, I did enjoy the two songs he sang from his solo album, Welcome Home.
I also have to say that I am mega-impressed with the producer of this project, David Nasser. Appearantly, he is a good friend of Mac Powell's and is the originator of the concept for a 'bluegrass - ish' style. His main emphasis, however, is on the power of the Word and how dehydrated we are as Christians when it comes to the Living Water. I feel that he totally hits the bulls-eye with this project. HOWEVER, both B and I were turned off by his speaking approach during the intermission. Out of this amazing organic, musically elegant project his speaking style made me feel like I was back in highschool listening to a canned youth talk. His point was powerful and timely, but his methods felt contrived and demeaning. It was hard not to be part of the post-event evaluation team... I so much wanted to let him know how frustrated we were by his talk.
Oh, and one more thing -- two actually.
1. MAC
2. POWELL
I know I only see him in one light -- on stage, beneath the lights, backed by amazing musicians. But I walked away from this event feeling like we were buddies. Maybe it was the second row seat and the fact that I'm pretty sure he looked me straight in the eye a couple of times (i know, i know, i sound like a jr. high crazed fan...but hear me out) B and I were both impressed with the subtle, but very strong, leadership he demonstrated. Even though the event was supposed to feel organic and somewhat unrehearsed, it was very clear who the leader was on that stage. (it's a good thing, too, or i'm afraid it might have turned into the Brian Littrell variety hour) He's also just got a darn great voice.
alright, enough said already. even though i still didn't say how MUCH i love Shane & Shane. the guys just sing from their toes and exude joy all over the place. i also am pretty certain if it were zeph317 or burningalive writing this review of the evening they would have had much more to say about all the hardware on the stage...it's just out of my realm! i've pre-ordered the DVD so we'll have a premiere party when it comes out, ok?!?
i'll stop now, though. i can't wait for heaven. i know we're not supposed to think of it as an eternal hymn sing in the sky, but after a night like the one we spent with Glory Revealed a few millenia like that would be just fine with me!
thankful that our God has overcome the world!
I know that I've copied these daily readings into my posts several times, but some days it's just SO right on to where I am at spiritually, emotionally and physically and it just seems to make sense to post it here. I've been thinking a lot lately about desires and what a challenge it is to acknowledge the Holy Spirit's influence in them without making the desire itself my god. I'm very bad at this. I have lived often out of the desire to just get everything situated, get the plan down, get everyone happy so we can just sit back and cruise through the rest of our life with comfort and joy. God has been re-programming me, but i realize this desire still lurks deep within me and taints almost all of my perspective on life. I choose not to live in a defeatist attitude of "what's the use in hoping when we live in a cursed earth and everyone around us is cursed by sin and my flesh refuses to stop trying to rule me!" but still live in the acknowledgement of the reality of this truth. It's a hard place to live and it grieves me -- and I know it grieves our Father. enough said....keep reading below....
The Promises of God
04/14/2007
The Promises of God
04/14/2007
God promises every man futility and failure; he guarantees every woman relational heartache and loneliness. We spend most of our waking hours attempting to end-run the curse. We will fight this truth with all we’ve got. Sure, other people suffer defeat. Other people face loneliness. But not me. I can beat the odds. We see the neighbor’s kids go off the deep end, and we make a mental note: They didn’t pray for their kids every day. And we make praying for our kids every day part of our plan. It doesn’t have to happen to us. We watch a colleague suffer a financial setback, and we make another note: He was always a little lax with his money. We set up a rigid budget and stick to it.
Isn’t there something defensive that rises up in you at the idea that you cannot make life work out? Isn’t there something just a little bit stubborn, an inner voice that says, I can do it? Thus Pascal writes,
All men seek happiness. This is without exception. Whatever different means they employ, they all tend to this end . . . This is the motive of every action of every man. But example teaches us little. No resemblance is ever so perfect that there is not some slight difference, and hence we expect that our hope will not be deceived on this occasion as before. And thus, while the present never satisfies us, experience dupes us and from misfortune to misfortune leads us to death. (Pensées)
It can’t be done. No matter how hard we try, no matter how clever our plan, we cannot arrange for the life we desire. Set the book down for a moment and ask yourself this question: Will life ever be what I so deeply want it to be, in a way that cannot be lost? This is the second lesson we must learn, and in many ways the hardest to accept. We must have life; we cannot arrange for it.
( The Journey of Desire , 96–97)
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
another beautiful red sky this morning....
I've been a little busy lately and not able to get to my blog! I miss it. This morning I woke up in Akron, Ohio and as B and I walked out of the hotel at 6:45am, we saw a gorgeous red sky.
I'll send updates about our trip in a while, but first I want to re-post something I put out on April 3. This post is pretty personal and I've been cautious about the level of transparency I allow in this tool of blogging. When I first posted this journal entry, I was still pretty raw. I am a recovering approval-addict and somehow when I first put out the entry I felt a lack of peace -- like I was turning to you for approval instead of my Heavenly Father. Often, I think we can do that simultaneously, but this time I think the Holy Spirit was checking my motives. So I got up in the middle of the night and deleted the post.
I'm ready to put it out there again -- this time more as a 'this is where i've been lately' instead of 'o.k., everybody! make me feel acceptable right now!'
Spring.
Opening day in the Bronx stadium.
A hair cut and color.
Running through new mossy grass and withered autumn leaves with Griffin.
A fat, glossy robin feasting on wriggling worms and assorted other bugs on
the yellow grass next to Smokin' Joes over the PA state line.
Resurrection.
Call me man's best friend - I am a woman who loves treats and rides in the
car. After a week of yucky coughing, chills and nose-blowing, I hit the
bottom of a deep melancholy late last night. A simple, run-of-the-mill
parenting experience shot me to the bottom of that abandoned well in a
matter of minutes.
Standing in the middle of my teenage sons' disastrous bedroom while
lecturing my 9-year-old daughter for her April Fool's prank that turned out
more foolish than funny. (water soaked blankets, sheets and mattresses) the
rope ran out of line. Whack - almost a literal physical impact...the anxiety
and pain of old memory hit that hard.
Tears took a while to reach the surface having to follow the plunging
thrusts of anger and fear . 'I must be crazy! What is wrong with me? Will
someone please tell me once and for all if I am a terrible mom! Who sets the
rules 'cuz I'm sick of not knowing the play book. Do clean bedrooms matter?
How about the fact that I feel like I can't stand my kids sometimes? Tell me
what mother of four this side of the abuse hotline who feels that way???"
Plunging the depths of me - like the bucket in the cracked well - sobs force
out the tears. The release comes as a 'woosh' - almost fake they seem. The
highlight reel in my head shows me at the same age as my daughter lying in
my blue and white gingham bedroom sobbing with deep, guttural anxiety that
my bedroom was such a mess. I had failed life by age 9. Funny, I don't
remember what that messy bedroom looked like - I only remember the feeling
of drowning in failure and worthlessness. 'what is wrong with me? Why can't
I keep my room clean? Why am I such a failure? Why can't anyone see that I'm
not right? What is wrong with me??"
My helpless husband asks, "Is this just about messy bedrooms? We can fix
that." I shake my head as an answer because I can't figure it out either.
The bucket lurching off the frayed rope scrapes bottom once more. "Oh, yes,
I am crazy! I finally have the proof I've been trying to figure out my whole
life. I am certifiable because... [EDIT: not ready to put this memory into
print] What's wrong with me? " Tears seem to spring out of my very pores by
this point. My face has lost its form and has become a pool of water and
mucous. The sobs actually hurt my head. My husband asks what is wrong. I do
not answer. I can not answer. How can I when any words I form on my tongue
and in my imagination seem like they are taken from the screenplay of a lame
after-school special??
So, today - after the hair cut and color and romp in the yard with my nephew
- I return home and crash back on the couch with my box of tissues and bag
of cough drops. My husband announces his plan to drive to the state line for
cigars. If I had ears on the top of my head like our Jack Russell, they
would have quivered in the excitement. A ride? Maybe a treat while we are
out?
Husband and I do not speak during the ride. I close my eyes against the
breeze creeping in through the cracked windows. My own iPod shuffle on the
truck stereo - a groovy mixture of Jack Johnson, Patty Griffin and Third Day
serenading my sunny nap under the open sunroof. The spring sun seems to pull
me inch by inch out of the bottom of that well as if were straining biceps
heaving the rope. I fantasize that I am one of those wealthy, Victorian-era
swooning females taken to the shore by doctor's orders to paint
impressionist landscapes and regain strength in the salty sunshine of the
sea.
Ridiculous fantasy over, I open my eyes and instead find myself parked up
against the yellow grassy bank behind Smokin' Joe's just over the NY/PA
border. This is the best place to get cigars for my husband's weekly walks
with the Jack Russell. I choose to stay in the truck while he goes in. He is
kind to leave the music playing and the sun roof open.
A black fluttering outside the window gets my attention. My brain is on
automatic - it's just a robin after all.
JUST A ROBIN! Rewind!
It's the Official-First-Robin-Of-Spring Sighting. I sit in the truck outside the PA convenience store and find resurrection with each worm the giddy bird pulls out of the
soggy ground.
Cars pull in on either side of me and I jerk my head to see if the drivers
have noticed this wonder of nature and are smiling the same crazy smile as
me? I am literally surprised when they do not appear to share my awe and
wonder.
The smile felt odd on my lips, anyway...like someone was sculpting it there
just above my chin and just below my chapped nose. (the week's worth of
sniffling and coughing and blowing and then the night's worth of torrential
grieving have done significant damage!) Next the lips push up the cheeks and
I can feel the light almost reach my eyes.
I am resurrected.
Not in the sense of being totally dead and now totally alive -- not in the
sense of what the Emmaus road traveler's discovered in their walking
companion, but a resurrection of hope.
Resurrection hope brings shafts of transcendent light into the dark drowning
places in my soul.
"Wait, Israel, for God. Wait with hope. Hope now; hope always!" -- Ps. 131:3
Wait, Tami, for God. Wait with hope. Hope now; hope always!
I'll send updates about our trip in a while, but first I want to re-post something I put out on April 3. This post is pretty personal and I've been cautious about the level of transparency I allow in this tool of blogging. When I first posted this journal entry, I was still pretty raw. I am a recovering approval-addict and somehow when I first put out the entry I felt a lack of peace -- like I was turning to you for approval instead of my Heavenly Father. Often, I think we can do that simultaneously, but this time I think the Holy Spirit was checking my motives. So I got up in the middle of the night and deleted the post.
I'm ready to put it out there again -- this time more as a 'this is where i've been lately' instead of 'o.k., everybody! make me feel acceptable right now!'
My journal entry from Monday, April 2, 2007
Spring.
Opening day in the Bronx stadium.
A hair cut and color.
Running through new mossy grass and withered autumn leaves with Griffin.
A fat, glossy robin feasting on wriggling worms and assorted other bugs on
the yellow grass next to Smokin' Joes over the PA state line.
Resurrection.
Call me man's best friend - I am a woman who loves treats and rides in the
car. After a week of yucky coughing, chills and nose-blowing, I hit the
bottom of a deep melancholy late last night. A simple, run-of-the-mill
parenting experience shot me to the bottom of that abandoned well in a
matter of minutes.
Standing in the middle of my teenage sons' disastrous bedroom while
lecturing my 9-year-old daughter for her April Fool's prank that turned out
more foolish than funny. (water soaked blankets, sheets and mattresses) the
rope ran out of line. Whack - almost a literal physical impact...the anxiety
and pain of old memory hit that hard.
Tears took a while to reach the surface having to follow the plunging
thrusts of anger and fear . 'I must be crazy! What is wrong with me? Will
someone please tell me once and for all if I am a terrible mom! Who sets the
rules 'cuz I'm sick of not knowing the play book. Do clean bedrooms matter?
How about the fact that I feel like I can't stand my kids sometimes? Tell me
what mother of four this side of the abuse hotline who feels that way???"
Plunging the depths of me - like the bucket in the cracked well - sobs force
out the tears. The release comes as a 'woosh' - almost fake they seem. The
highlight reel in my head shows me at the same age as my daughter lying in
my blue and white gingham bedroom sobbing with deep, guttural anxiety that
my bedroom was such a mess. I had failed life by age 9. Funny, I don't
remember what that messy bedroom looked like - I only remember the feeling
of drowning in failure and worthlessness. 'what is wrong with me? Why can't
I keep my room clean? Why am I such a failure? Why can't anyone see that I'm
not right? What is wrong with me??"
My helpless husband asks, "Is this just about messy bedrooms? We can fix
that." I shake my head as an answer because I can't figure it out either.
The bucket lurching off the frayed rope scrapes bottom once more. "Oh, yes,
I am crazy! I finally have the proof I've been trying to figure out my whole
life. I am certifiable because... [EDIT: not ready to put this memory into
print] What's wrong with me? " Tears seem to spring out of my very pores by
this point. My face has lost its form and has become a pool of water and
mucous. The sobs actually hurt my head. My husband asks what is wrong. I do
not answer. I can not answer. How can I when any words I form on my tongue
and in my imagination seem like they are taken from the screenplay of a lame
after-school special??
So, today - after the hair cut and color and romp in the yard with my nephew
- I return home and crash back on the couch with my box of tissues and bag
of cough drops. My husband announces his plan to drive to the state line for
cigars. If I had ears on the top of my head like our Jack Russell, they
would have quivered in the excitement. A ride? Maybe a treat while we are
out?
Husband and I do not speak during the ride. I close my eyes against the
breeze creeping in through the cracked windows. My own iPod shuffle on the
truck stereo - a groovy mixture of Jack Johnson, Patty Griffin and Third Day
serenading my sunny nap under the open sunroof. The spring sun seems to pull
me inch by inch out of the bottom of that well as if were straining biceps
heaving the rope. I fantasize that I am one of those wealthy, Victorian-era
swooning females taken to the shore by doctor's orders to paint
impressionist landscapes and regain strength in the salty sunshine of the
sea.
Ridiculous fantasy over, I open my eyes and instead find myself parked up
against the yellow grassy bank behind Smokin' Joe's just over the NY/PA
border. This is the best place to get cigars for my husband's weekly walks
with the Jack Russell. I choose to stay in the truck while he goes in. He is
kind to leave the music playing and the sun roof open.
A black fluttering outside the window gets my attention. My brain is on
automatic - it's just a robin after all.
JUST A ROBIN! Rewind!
It's the Official-First-Robin-Of-Spring Sighting. I sit in the truck outside the PA convenience store and find resurrection with each worm the giddy bird pulls out of the
soggy ground.
Cars pull in on either side of me and I jerk my head to see if the drivers
have noticed this wonder of nature and are smiling the same crazy smile as
me? I am literally surprised when they do not appear to share my awe and
wonder.
The smile felt odd on my lips, anyway...like someone was sculpting it there
just above my chin and just below my chapped nose. (the week's worth of
sniffling and coughing and blowing and then the night's worth of torrential
grieving have done significant damage!) Next the lips push up the cheeks and
I can feel the light almost reach my eyes.
I am resurrected.
Not in the sense of being totally dead and now totally alive -- not in the
sense of what the Emmaus road traveler's discovered in their walking
companion, but a resurrection of hope.
Resurrection hope brings shafts of transcendent light into the dark drowning
places in my soul.
"Wait, Israel, for God. Wait with hope. Hope now; hope always!" -- Ps. 131:3
Wait, Tami, for God. Wait with hope. Hope now; hope always!
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